I am content
here, on the concrete step
carved out for the homeless man.

I am content
with the 30 minute wait
for a bowl of hot eggs.

I am content
wandering the streets
not knowing where to go.

I am content.

When fate comes,
he will beckon.

Home is in the walls of this body,
old creaky bones and toothy smiles.
Soft footsteps fueled by inner hearth.
These arms can hug themselves.

I need not worry.

I am content.
I am content.